Snowfall
The snow makes people kind. When the sun came out while the snow fell, my neighbors stood in their driveways holding snow shovels, lingering. They gathered on sidewalks and spoke about the everyday - the leaf blower, the roof, the hospital visits, the strange sounds at night. I love the everyday. If I get to choose, I want to see the world the way the snow taught me to see: each moment soft, fresh, and new, resting in the negative shape of a curled leaf.
The snow transforms the world of the human into the world of the deer. They too wander the world thinking of the moment held by the leaf, melting.
How is it that the leaf holds us all? Here and now, we rest in the quiet opposite, the air that surrounds, the exhale already released. Here, and in a very real sense, all things are inter-related. The falling, frozen sky touches us all. Walk through the cave of this idea slowly and with a wandering light. Trace your fingers along its possible implications.
I wander the cave and pray for a room with ceiling-gone blinding-light certainty. Instead, the feeling of knowing is more like my lantern. It casts a subtle warmth that transforms the object of our gaze into a piece of our personal Infinite.
